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Published in: ECHOES OF EMPIRE- Memory, Identity and Colonial Legacies, Kalypso Nicolaïdis, Berny Sèbe, Gabrielle Maas (eds), 2015

Southern Barbarians? A post-colonial critique of EUniversalism

Kalypso Nicolaidis

“They eat with their fingers instead of with chopsticks such as we use. They show their feelings without any self-control. They cannot understand the meaning of written characters" (from Boxer, 1951, The Christian Century in Japan: 1549-1650)

Pooling sovereignty, pooling colonies In today’s Japan, one can eat a delicious noodle soup exhibiting a circle of meat swimming at its periphery.1 The dish is called “Southern Barbarians”, as is an elegant 16th-century painting attributed to Kano Sanraku depicting a bunch of white men walking ashore from a grand ship presumably sailing from the South Sea. These were the Europeans of the time, Nanban or Southern Barbarians. The Japanese abandoned the term

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Nanban during the Meiji restoration, as it did not seem excessively compatible with radical westernization. By then, even if the latter had come to be embraced as much as a strategy of resistance to as one of emulation of the West, Europeans could no longer be considered as fundamentally uncivilized or “barbarian”, a term coined by Athenians to designate their own Others, those who fell outside the laws of the polis. From their perspective, if by the late 19th century Europe was clearly seen as the source of superior technology – the material dimension of civilization – the world over, the same could not be said for European or Western spirit. If the word Nanban is still used in today’s Japan, we are told that it is meant in picturesque and affectionate spirit, used jokingly to refer to Western people or civilization in a cultured manner – a faint echo of yesterday’s intense enmity and rivalry, hardly a matter for passion, desire or hatred. How should we contemplate the baring of such subtle mentalities beyond the European continent on contemporary attempts at political union within it? Above all, by calling for individual and institutional awareness on the part of “Europe”. To suggest that today’s Europeans remember how their forbearers were perceived as Southern Barbarians is not only to ask them to consider how colonial echoes linger on in continued perceptions from the rest of the world. It is also an invitation to radical decentering: to free themselves from Eurocentrism and consider the globe from other points of view, whatever place Europeans may hold from the vantage point;2 to remember that Europe itself was constructed through the fashioning of various “barbarians”, “others” beyond its own shifting limits, who defined its own claims to a “civilized” identity; and fascinatingly, to turn the tables around and consider that Europe might be somebody else’s inferior “South” or yet more unsettling, a faraway province of which is known little – and even to consider that such a reduced status can be the object of a smile, a shrug of irreverence, a nod to irrelevance. It should come as no surprise that such a “decentering” mindset is rather marginal in today’s institutional incarnation of Europe, the European Union. Instead, the dominant discourse and ambition is that of global purpose and power, that of benign hegemony committed to upholding its values around the world through peaceful means, and to selling its new brand of “civil” relations between states to other relevant arena of governance, be they regional or global. To be sure, there has been the sense from the beginning a talk of a third way between the US and the Soviet Union, that the only power the EU can claim for itself is that of “superpowerlessness”.3 But less face it. However self deprecatory, such superpowerlessness has come to be framed as civilian, civilizing or normative powerhood, clearly not by Europeans truly aware of being seen by many in the “global south” as the descendants of some version of “southern barbarians.”4 Should not the multifaceted crisis which has befallen the EU since 2009 and saw Europeans seeking rescue from (re)emerging actors from the global south truly constitute a moment of self-reflection in this regard? As the many contributions in this volume make clear, echoes of European colonialism are present to this day, and not just in radical leftist anti-imperialist speeches around the world. Nor do these echoes belong only to one member state or another – although to be

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sure, France’s imprint looms large in this story when it comes to Africa, as does Britain’s when it comes to South Asia and both when it comes to the Middle East. Instead, as I will argue here, such echoes are linked to the very origins of the European project. This chapter asks how the EC, and later the EU, dealt with its colonial legacy. Or rather, it points to avenues and ways in which we should ask the question. It is grounded in a broader research agenda committed to “Rethinking Europe in a non-European World”: a “non-European world” both objectively, as continued US dominance and the rise of new powers, imply the progressive marginalization of Europe, and a “non-European world” subjectively, that is a world in stark contrast to the past three centuries when “southern barbarians” were thought to shape the political geography of the entire globe. By exploring both the echoes of colonialism in today’s EU discourse and practice and the signs of its potential post-colonial maturity, I hope to suggest that Europe has spent a half century negotiating this transition to a non-European world and is now at a crossroads. In one outcome it would succumb to its colonial gene; in the other it would live up to its post-colonial aspiration. The later term is intentionally borrowed from the post-decolonisation literature to ask whether the EU can truly share in the fate and state of mind of the post-colonial world beyond its borders. In Part I (the Virgin Birth) I sketch out very schematically the strategies employed by the EC at the creation and in later years to reinvent a Europe that could deny the paternity of its founding member states, embedded as it was in the matrix of war itself. In part II (the Colonial Gene), I ask whether and to what extent we can nevertheless recognize Europe’s core nature in the discourse and practice emanating over the years from the European Union. Finally in Part III (the Post-Colonial Aspiration) I turn to a normative appraisal, defining what I would take to be a post-colonial ethos for Europe and pointing to some of the ways in which the EU could yet invent and fine tune a genuinely post-colonial agenda.

I. The Virgin Birth or the Reinvention of Europe

Inconvenient pasts are not all born equal. It is often said that the EU is grounded in the memory of the past and that the need to transcend such a past is still the glue that binds Europeans. But there seems to be only one past relevant to this story, a war which tore the continent apart 50 years ago. Europe’s other past, that of its relations with the rest of the world from the beginning of the colonial era four centuries ago until the very creation of the EC/EU, somehow does not figure in this narrative. Yet this past has also never been far from the surface, acting as a backdrop for Europe’s cautious self-reassertion on the global stage, first in the context of the cold war, and above all in the post-cold war era. Thus, the progressive, tentative and even timid resurgence of the idea and practice of “Europe as a model” can be seen as the product of a mixed strategy of amnesia, redirection and atonement on the part of public figures, intellectuals and the various actors of foreign policy.

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a. Amnesia and Denial The European Community was born not only of a desire for a radical break with the past, war and nationalism; it was also born out of desire for continuity and collective management of a colonial world – above all the African continent – that was slipping out of the grasp of its member states individually. As Peo Hansen and Stefan Jonsson illustrate vividly in their chapter, European integration was from the post-war to the 1960s inextricably bound up with the so-called Eurafrica project of what Nkrumah later called collective colonialism.5 Starting with initial attempts to institute Franco-British colonial cooperation, through to the Hague Congress of Europe in 1948, the Eurafrica project became that of all founding member states. This meant pooling sovereignty in order to pool colonies, as pointed out by the UK representative Lord Layton when he called on the Hague assembly to think of these overseas territories “not as the possessions of any one country” but lands that “have to be integrated with all the countries of Europe and all the overseas territories’6. If the initial idea was joint exploitation of the African continent to resolve Europe’s raw material deficit, demographic deficit, or the dollar deficit, the rationale quickly took on a geopolitical dimension, with Eurafrica as the key to Europe as third force. Even if the ‘Monnet Plan for Africa’ (a grouping with its own High Authority) was never implemented, Schuman picked up on Monnet’s suggestion that France could give Africa as a ‘“dowry to Europe”’ with the backing of the likes of Adenauer’s Germany as well as many Scandinavians for whom sharing colonies meant sharing markets. And so the Treaty of Rome associated with the nascent EC through trade preferences all of the member states’ colonial possessions (French West and Equatorial Africa, Belgian Congo and Ruanda-Urundi, Italian Somaliland and Netherlands New Guinea), without consulting those involved. Indeed, there was no denying the ubiquitous presence of Europe’s colonial past at its creation. But the imprint did not look much like what most Europhiles had planned throughout the late 1940s and 1950s. As France in particular was sealing its reconciliation with Germany with the stamp of a common market, it was caught in a decolonisation drama and called De Gaulle to the rescue - although the signature of the Rome Treaty preceded his return to power. So if Le Général presided over the launch of the new European project it was only as a by-product of his newfound Algerian mission. Indeed it is now a forgotten fact that Algeria was part of the original EEC, not of course as a “member” but as a (dependent) “territory”. Many proponents of “European unity” had used the argument that it would contribute to stemming revolt from the colonies, and in particular from Algeria, and the best way to retain this close embrace was to make them part of the new integration scheme. Interdependence, it was argued, was a much better fate than independence, even if from a European point of view such interdependence could only be asymmetric. But history did not quite go along with the plan. When France and the newly sovereign Algeria “de-commonised” their market and their fates after 1962’s independence, there was no formal process of withdrawal or exclusion of the territories now constituting Algeria from the jurisdiction of the EC; the fact that a North African country was an original constituent part of the EC and the process by which it came out of it is so

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clouded in mystery that no map showcasing the origins of the EC ever includes the southern shore of the Mediterranean (ask schoolchildren in EU countries or indeed their parents). Nor indeed did France deal explicitly with the status of the one million “Muslim French citizens of Algeria” who had often sided with the Metropole during the war of independence and been promised full political rights in the last days of the war: their existence, like that of the land from which they came, was simply erased from the annals, while non-French Algerians simply became a source of cheap labour for the Metropole in the post-colonial project. As Shepard argues, the French response to the Algerian revolution gave birth to the certainty that decolonisation was a stage in the forward march of Hegelian linear History, making the messy episodes disappear in a familiar liberal narrative of progress.7 According to this new narrative (new that is with the break of 1962), the French in general speaking through the voice of their leader De Gaulle had not merely resigned themselves to but had actively embraced the extension of self-determination and the forward march of liberté égalité fraternité that had begun with the French revolution.

Beyond France, the narrative of decolonisation was shaped or “invented” in the first decade of the EC’s existence as the story of a historical culmination of the internationalisation of the European society of nations: a world of sovereign states with territorial boundaries based on presumed homogenous nations which had ‘earned the right’ to sovereignty. In this context, Algerians would never join Icelanders as a people recorded to have defected from the EC. Since there would never be any attempt to mould Algerians into Europeans, their separation from France had nothing to do with the new Europe. They had never been part though a voluntary contract between equal and similar peoples. If we take Renan’s idea of nations as defined by what they choose to remember and forget together, the imagined community of Europe exorcised the demons of its member states by helping to purge their past and its own present of signs that Empires had mattered for many of its member states, as well as all of them collectively, right up to the foundation of the EC and during its first few years. In this great process of forgetting, the 1960s were a magical decade. Suddenly, a continent that had been obsessed with its symbiotic and exploitative relations with the colonial world simply rewrote the story that it would tell about itself. Kojeve’s and others’ “Latin empire” in the Mediterranean, the plans for Euro-African integration and the like simply vanished. The European project retreated into its (small) self in a grand exercise of political amnesia. And with amnesia came denial, denial that this quickly forgotten and recent past mattered, leading to the widely shared assumption by the end of the 1960s that the idea of a unilaterally defined mission (“domesticating” world politics in its own image) could still be acceptable in this new post-colonial world. As a result, the core tension inherited from Europe’s past remained in a different guise. That is the tension between the two faces of European universalism turned EUniversalism, namely exceptionalism to the point of justifying domination on one hand and solidarism as trans-national responsibility on the other.8

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b. Redirection To countries like France or Belgium, and later Britain, denial of the relevance of their imperial past to the European project would not and could not mean a simple retreat within the borders of a middle-size or small power - an EC which without its African backyard could hardly have come to matter as a “third force.” The Westphalian European order might have put an end (or rather tried to) to expansionist or interfering tendencies within the European continent, but this internal deal had always been balanced by extraterritorial allowance for expansionism beyond. And so with the reinvention of decolonisation came the reinvention of Europe as the next frontier of national ambitions. European nations learned to redirect their ambition from without to within. If la Grande France could no longer be the hexagone enlarged to the “départements et Territoires d’Outre Mer” (DOM- TOM) it would become the hexagone projected onto the continent of Europe itself, eventually (50 years later) to become “wider Europe”: the label put forth by Brussels to describe the borderlands of Europe destined to become part of its new institutionalised sphere of influence. Clearly, in the case of Germany, redirection – to the extent that it meant allowing its neighbours to police, tax and “civilise” it – was the straightest road to redemption. It may well be the case that these various projects of redirection did not turn out as initially planned – the EU is certainly not La Grande France and Germany has been arguably unsuccessful at getting its neighbours to bind it – but the direction of redirection is still with us 60 years later: the EU is an introverted animal, despite its multifaceted presence abroad.9 Such a redirection strategy was much harder for Britain, bent on reconciling its three concentric circles of engagement with the world – the US, the Commonwealth and the EC. Indeed, one of the core reasons for the Labour government of the 1950s to forego the EC option had been a hard core calculation that “trade diversion”, redirection in the immediate material sense of its trade link from a Commonwealth emerging out of the ashes of empire to the European Common Market would simply be too costly for food prices, and thus workers in the UK, while weakening the ties with the emerging Commonwealth. De Gaulle’s first ‘No’ in 1963 was grounded not only on the accusation that the UK was a US Trojan horse but – much more ironically, given the then recent French “invention of decolonisation” – in the argument that the UK’s failure to decolonise fully and radically could be taken as a sign of its lack of commitment to building Europe.10 The message was clear: Europeanisation could not be complete without genuine redirection. The subtext, of course, concerned competitive advantage in trade, France’s obsession with the “level playing field” and the early convergence between redirection and “protection” if not protectionism tout court. At the same time, decolonisation and the transformation of the old colonies into battlegrounds of the Cold War also erased any prospect of the EC evolving into a relatively independent third force in world politics, confining “redirection” to the economic realm for the time being. The strategy of redirection culminated in the process of reunification of the European continent itself at the end of the cold war, when Europe’s east (excluding the troublesome

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Southeast) came to be “decolonised” from its Soviet master and reappropriated by the EU in one fell swoop. The sphere of influence of western European member states, especially Germany, increased dramatically as a result. And with this new wave of decolonisation of Europe itself, the EU acquired yet a new set of credentials, in theory at least: the membership of nations who had lived under the yoke of Empire themselves would presumably bring in an added sensitivity to imperial drift. In truth of course, given the EU’s internal power imbalances, the new members have not been in any position to contest dominant narratives vis-a-vis the rest of the world, with some arguing that in this sense at least they are still to some extent in danger of intra-EU 'colonisation.’

c. Atonement

There was however a third strategy in the reinvention of Europe, itself at odds with the first two, but nevertheless a strong theme in Europe’s actions in the world since the 1960s. That is the use of the EC/EU as an instrument of atonement on behalf of its ex-coloniser member states; as the actor and identity through which European powers could seek legitimately to reassert a role in the world – as if their new instrument, the EC, could offer its member states a genuine virgin birth! The thinking behind the EU’s relationship with former colonies did not only emanate from Europe. When public intellectuals like Aimé Césaire called for “a new humanism” that would open “unimagined possibilities” to the formerly colonised, this was to be a shared project between the previously colonised and colonisers predicated on a reconceptualised mutual engagement.11 While European “third worldism” of the 1960s and 1970s has come to be castigated as the tears of the White Man by the likes of Pascal Bruckner, who saw it as a screen against more urgent imperatives of fighting communism –and more recently by Sarkozy and his derision of repentance – there is no want of zeal in EU institutions themselves for active EU engagement with “the South”.12 Concretely and early on, the EC’s system of colonial association quickly became a setting in which to accommodate the colonies’ independence formally and honour the ideal of “co-development” while continuing to gain from them economically and strategically. At least in theory, the EC’s early strategy hinged on inversing the exploitative tropes of the colonial era (fair and stable price for primary commodities through Stabex; unilateral market opening in the interest of infant industries etc). More generally and in contrast with the US, the EU systematically favoured diplomatic engagement rather than balancing, containment or coercive diplomacy. From its inception, the EU’s complex series of external trade preferences either followed pragmatic economic lines or were based on post-colonial ties. This is not the place to assess whether the EU’s considerable development aid program was used to influence post-independence governments of the former colonies, or in a more benign manner as a way of expiating post-colonial guilt. What is clear, however, is that the more hands-off attitude of the ’60s and ’70s changed somewhat after 1992 and the adoption of the Maastricht Treaty, which made the promotion of democracy and the rule of law in the rest of the world one of the primary goals of the European Union’s Common Foreign and Security Policy.13 Following suit, the Lome IV agreement in 1989 allowed sanctions and political conditionality to be

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applied to aid recipients in the ACP in breach of good governance and rule of law requirements. But such conditionality has rarely been applied, and when it has it tends to be in the form of positive rather than negative conditionality. At least in theory, coercion is usually eschewed in favour of enmeshment. To be sure, the EU brand of the development agenda may not have abandoned the old profit motive, but it is now dressed up in the new clothes of partnership. But as the chapter by Jones and Weinhardt illustrates, the EU’s attempt to negotiate new “Economic Partnership Agreements” with ACP countries over the last decade has proved far from convincing to its partners. Indeed, whatever the actual ground for their perceptions, most ACP negotiators involved in the process have shown extreme sensitivity to the ubiquity of colonial undertone and behaviour on the part of their EU counterpart, including the insensitivity of the later to expert studies contradicting their model of development for Africa.

* Over time, the three strategies of denial, redirection and atonement combined to shape a vision of the EU’s role in the world as a “civil,” “benign”, “quiet”, “moral”, “transformative” actor who, through the force of such qualifiers, has slowly recovered the descriptor and indeed the attributes of power. By perceiving itself as a “community of memory” the EU can in good conscience avoid that part of its past whose echoes are today most difficult to overcome. The strategy of redirection allowed the construction of an “EUtopia” out of purely internal bargains over sovereignty, and thus a “European model” which would progressively come to serve as the basis for a new narrative of projection.14 And the goal of atonement fuelled the EU’s commitment to another kind of engagement with the rest of the world. To what extent then has this reinvention of Europe succeeded? To what extent is the EU, actually or potentially, capable of transcending the colonial past of at least some of its member states?

II. The Colonial Gene or the Nature of the European project

a. Unilateral Universalism and European Exceptionalism

We can call “EUniversalism” the belief that norms and rules developed in the context of EU polity-building and policy-making are largely applicable –even if through necessary adaptation – to different contexts of regional and global governance. Today’s brand of EUniversalism is grounded on familiar tropes: rights, values, icons. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, universalism is ‘the doctrine of universal salvation or redemption’. “Universal” can depict anything that everyone recognizes and accepts as fundamental, indivisible and relevant to all human beings. In its most general acceptation, universalism then is a shared belief regarding the validity of a set of principles for all human beings. In its secular version, it is a ‘belief in the brotherhood of all men in a manner not subject to national allegiances’. In the realm of sociology and economics, it refers to a movement in ‘opposition to particularism or regionalism’. The Weberian definition meanwhile reintroduces an ethical dimension, describing universalism as ‘the insistence on treatment of all men by the same generalized, impersonal standards’.

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In contrast with this (impossible? Incredibly demanding?) “bird’s eye view” version of universalism, the term has historically served to name particular discursive traditions, as it is in the nature of universalism itself that it's always in the eye of the beholder. There are of course non-European forms of universalism, such as that of Islam or the Chinese beliefs in the universal qualities of its societal values (for instance, “ultimate perfection”). But the brand of universalism originating in Europe and directed outside Europe managed to find a material translation which none of the others had found before. As such, European universalism has historically been a project for the world as much as a vision of the world. As a project of a particular human community then, universalism has remained a discourse on the ability of one’s community to define, embody and uphold whatever it is that is deemed to be universal and the legitimacy of promoting it in the rest of the world. It is a claim about oneself as much as about the rest of the world, conditioned by a geopolitical narrative. If, in Ruggie’s formulation, hegemony is the fusing of power and purpose, a unilateral universalist discourse extends this logic by rooting the avowed purpose in the power of attraction rather than power tout court. I use the term unilateral universalism to convey the tension associated with the emanation of the universal from a single source. The idea that Europe (or the EU) can be and should be the sources of norms, values and standards applicable to the rest of the world has been enduring to say the least. Like the anthropic principle in cosmology, there is a strong and a weak version of European universalism. The strong version consists in the belief that the standards define Europe itself, its “soul”, its “enlightenment inheritance”, and that Europe should actively be promoting them as an actor in its own right; whereas the weak version simply asserts that universally sourced values can be or happen to be (best?) promoted by Europeans. Thus universalism as a project has historically been rooted in what may appear as its contradiction: exceptionalism, or the idea held by a given political community (group, nation, or group of nations) that it is uniquely predisposed by “who we are” (history, values, culture) to spread these values/principles in the world. Exceptionalism then stands as the condition of possibility of unilateral universalism. To be sure, every nation considers itself somewhat exceptional, from the US as a “City upon a Hill” to the Chinese eternal empire (how these exceptionalisms differ is a whole topic onto itself). “Invented here”, however, is not only a syndrome of the French and British descendants of those who stormed the Bastille and the Dartmouth to appropriate the brioche and Darjeeling tea. There are also those whose forefathers built the Parthenon and Westminster as they “invented” democracy, while the Dutch “invented” democratic peace, the Spaniards constitutionalised regionalism, the Italians the republic of cities. And while exceptionalism is the most widely shared European trait among its various nationalities, it has become the hallmark of the EU itself, all too often described as a unique achievement in human history: ‘the most advanced experiment in multilateralism ever devised’15 – not a model, but the model.

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When José Manuel Barroso, President of the Commission, defined the EU as a ‘moral power’ he added an essentialist tone to the avowedly more neutral academic idea of the EU as a “normative power”16. Indeed, Kant feared the goal of constitutionalising ethics as dangerously totalising17, a caution that may ultimately apply to the global constitutionalisation of “universalism” as a European moral project. Moralised universalist approaches have all too often often been invoked pragmatically to legitimate harder forms of power discussed in this volume. But the point about either terminology is similar – to try to persuade interlocutors that European power is rooted in ideas not capacity, in ideational rather than material resources. In addition to the basic attempt at contrasting ideas and power, another more subtle shift underpins this discourse, from defending cooperation based on shared interests to one based on shared values or norms – from the conviction that what we do together ought to serve our mutual interests to the idea that it must be consistent with, grounded on who we are. Is this such a benign turn? Is it not the case that the politics of identity was precisely what European enlightenment (unsuccessfully) tried to escape? Thus the perennial question: to the extent that universalism is grounded in a certain moralism, is universalism the ultimate shared value, or on the contrary a re-branding of localised values?

b. Europe as a would be Standard Setter: from Standards of Civilisation to standards of accession So, to what extent then is EUniversalism an echo of the brand of European universalism which drove the imperialism of yesteryear? European universalism certainly goes back a long way and exhibits a striking continuity in the idea of Europe as standard setter, the centre of a world hierarchically divided between the standard bearers of civilisation and its un/less civilised periphery, itself assessed and ordered on the basis of these standards.18 We can find the germs of European universalism in late medieval, culturalist formulations of Christian fraternity, that is, in the notion that all Christians were created equal in the eyes of God (a claim echoed in Islamic thought). Over time, this universalism “became increasingly inclusionary, grounded in the rediscovery of classical Stoic thought during the Renaissance, and the dawn of secularism. This transition can be conceived of as a shift from a Catholic with a capital ‘C’ to a catholic with a lower case ‘c’ understanding of human relationships and rights. Yet, even as universalism became more open, anyone wishing to partake of the enlarging human fraternity was expected to adopt Christian or post-Christian ideals.”19 Thus until the 18th century, the European-as-international society was grounded on the assumption that only European Christian sovereigns could count as part of the international system of states, or more subtly, that a prerequisite for taking part in the “international” system as a state in full sovereign standing was conformity with a particular religious and civilizational cultural community, namely that of Europe. That this vision clearly ignored much of European and world history of the preceding millennium remained inconsequential to the Eurocentric narrative which accompanied the early explosion of the industrial revolution.20

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By the late 18th century however, aspirations to independence in some former colonies (the United States, for instance) combined with the growing interaction between European and non-European (non-white) communities in trade and commerce at the dawn of the New Imperialism made it necessary to rethink this radical dual premise and come up with some kind of modus vivendi with “uncivilized others”. Bridges needed to be built between the two orders by reconceptualizing the criteria of membership in international society. At the same time and on a more practical note, some kind of ‘standard’ was also required for “protecting European life, liberty and property in sometimes hostile non-European countries.” Within Europe, however, the secularization of politics in the wake of the French Revolution and the decline of absolute monarchism had brought about a complex situation in which rights to statehood could no longer be based on merely religious terms and notions of a “Public Law of Europe”. But while in Europe a plethora of organizational and political forms could give rise to sovereign statehood, even progressive thinkers could not imagine that European states should, faced with the seemingly ‘savage’ and ‘backward’ social and political practices encountered outside Europe, recognize non-European communities as politically equal and entitled to the privilege of non-intervention conferred upon states under the existing rules governing the European society of states. In this sense, the recourse to the concept of a common ‘European Civilization’ (despite all existing differences) whose essential characteristics (its ‘standard’) could function as a guideline of development for non-European societies was a vehicle to bring into harmony the conflicting necessities of accepting internal diversity and justifying external intervention. So by the end of the 18th century, Europe had begun to define in non-religious terms what the ‘entrance test’ into the club of sovereign states should be. The result was a regime of interacting norms, some formal and others informal, which specified what it meant to be sufficiently ‘civilized’ and thus gain all or some of the privileges afforded to independent states, such as non-intervention, legal sovereignty, tax autonomy and so forth, as well as membership in emerging international organisations. By the late19th century, these came to be referred to as “Standard of Civilization” reflecting both a socio-legal as well as a moral attitude to non-European societies. While there is not one dominant conception as to a single and objective ‘standard’, these gained overwhelming acceptance and achieved an increasingly explicit status “codified in treaties, articulated by the publicists, and embedded as a rule of customary international law,”2122 which reflected domestic norms as to what “good government” meant at the time. More specifically, Gong argues that at least five specific requirements formed part of the full-blown “standard of Civilization” at the beginning of the 20th century and that, depending on a territory’s ability to conform to those standards, it was classified as ‘fit for sovereignty’. Thus, to qualify for membership in the international society, a state had to maintain: i) a guarantee of basic rights to locals and foreigners. Rights ordinarily considered ‘basic’ were those of property and commerce, and some freedom of life, religion and movement; ii) functioning political and administrative bureaucracy that could govern rationally and effectively maintain a monopoly of force through military capabilities; iii) a commitment to the rules and obligations of European international law – including the modern law of warfare – and a Western tradition of jurisprudence, i.e. a rational and efficient system of courts adjudicating in accordance with a written legal

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code that conforms to European conceptions of basic justice; iv) an adequate diplomatic system to ensure communication between sovereign states; v) and a subjective notion that social and cultural customs and practices followed European ideas of morality and prudence. This meant for example that “suttee, polygamy, and slavery were considered ‘uncivilized’, and therefore unacceptable. Clearly these criteria were eminently subjective and left existing members of the European “international society” with a wide margin of appreciation for rejecting membership on grounds of ‘otherness’. A universalist project starts from the presumption that it is legitimate to proselytise, actively “export” one’s values beyond one’s shores, at least under the weak version discussed above, arrogate to oneself the responsibility to enforce presumed universal values abroad. How similar are the 'standards of civilization' which determined access to statehood in the 19th and early 20th centuries and the EU's ‘Copenhagen criteria’ for accession and their corollary definition of "good governance" – from the enumeration of democracy, human rights and the rule of law to the specific standards set against corruption, judicial independence or the freedom of the press? It could be argued that the latter belong to the panoply of conditionality used not only by the EU but most international organisations. But in the context of enlargement, such standards are not only or even mainly about making prudent loans. Rather, they are part of polity-building, something akin that is to the EU’s version of “manifest destiny” as shaped by the US when it was itself exploring its final frontiers a hundred years earlier. Both polities justified expansion in normative terms, the US by reaching its west coast and the EU by enlarging to the east, while at the same time both decreed a droit de regard over their southern neighbours (the Monroe Doctrine and the Barcelona process). In the process, both essentialized their political project, by claiming for themselves a term that did not belong exclusively to them: EU-isation became Europeanization, and US-isation becomes Americanisation. If the second part of the twentieth-century has been dominated by another unilateral universalism, that emanating from the United States, and by the re-emergence at different times of counter-narratives of resistance from around the world, the two universalist project, echo one another in striking ways. Contrary to the US, however, the EU does not only set standards in the context of its interaction with individual countries, candidates for membership or otherwise. Its standard-setting ambitions have continued to expand to the standards adopted by other regional groupings like the Mercosur, or much more recently the Economic Partnership Agreements (EPAs) signed with the ACP countries, as pre-conditions to inter-regional cooperation; European standard setting has also extended to global level as many of the standards adopted by organisations such as the ISO, the FAO or even the WTO (e.g., the Singapore standards on competition and government procurement) emanate from the EU. Indeed, it is increasingly in the realm of linkage among standards – for instance between trade and environmental issues – that the EU has been able to claim first mover advantage and shape the debate in global norm setting. The resistance of most other countries to such a normative approach (which happens to correlate better with EU interests than with their own) among WTO members has been palpable.

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c. Provincialising Westphalia: From Hierarchy to Negotiated Sovereignty? But today’s “echoes of colonialisms” do not arise only from European assertions of “unilateral universalism”, or from the setting of standards with universal claim, an aim which may be more or less reminiscent of 19th century standards of civilisation depending on one’s analytical premise. They are echoes of another familiar trope as the EU and its member states engage in an altogether more radical project of universal scope and nature: the (re)definition and defence of alternative forms of sovereignties in line with what they see as “the European model.” In a nutshell, the argument goes as follows. Mainstream IR is wielded to Waltz’s conceptualisation of international anarchy as the absence of world government and therefore the absence of hierarchy.1 But this conceptualisation fails to take into account the existence of power hierarchies not simply as differences in various states’ capability to exercise sovereignty as Waltz sees it but as institutionalised differences in the very nature of such sovereignty.2 Arguably, what the English school describes as the progressive expansion of European inter-national society was in fact an evolution from a two-tiered international society into an increasingly “global” international society after World-War II.23 Before decolonisation, hierarchy was the name of the game: on one hand, a diplomatic system of recognised sovereignty – eg Westphalian toleration within Europe, and on the other, an imperial system of denied or constrained sovereignty characterised by hierarchy and the extra-territorial enforcement by colonial powers of special rights and privileges for their own nationals either directly or through capitulation treaties. In this context, the world would eventually be carved into sovereign states even if ideally, access to sovereign status was to be police by Europe’s standards of civilisation. Europe’s own civilisationa; wars during the first half of the twentieth century chattered this ambition. Some would argue that the creation of the EU coincided with the abandonment of this dual pattern of order in the global system. After decolonisation, the story goes, the two-tiered system disappeared. Indeed, if anything, we have witnessed an inversion of the prior pattern: Westphalian sovereignty has been rapidly globalised through self-determination while Europeans proceeded to construct a “civilising community” among themselves, aiming to civilise each other and justify mutual interference (the later might be predicated on formal equality not colonisation of say Southern Europe, but some observers might even recognise within the EU domination patterns that previously defined colonial relations). And so here is the paradox of inversion: As Europeans finally succeeded in shaping the world according to their own former (Westphalian) image, a new message was starting to emanate from a new Europe, involving the abandonment of that image: integration across borders, the pooling of sovereignty and the legitimacy of mutual intervention in each 1 Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (1979). 2 Hobson, John and Sharman. "The Enduring Place of Hierarchy in World Politics: Tracing the Social Logics of Hierarchy and Political Change." European Journal of International Relations 11.1 (2005)

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other’s internal matters. In short, while deferential recognition of sovereignty was globalised from Europe outwards, civilisational intrusion was internalised within Europe. But the story does not stop here. Precisely because Europeans believe they have found and experimented among themselves with a superior form of negotiated sovereignty which can both defer to state interests and transcend them in the name of common interests and individual rights, the EU offers itself as a model and candidate for normative “expansion” yet again: as Europeans move beyond Westphalia, they propose to take the world with them.24 And so, to articulate what is often left unsaid: after inversion must come convergence. The EU’s very special brand of triangulation has brought us back to the same pattern of Eurocentric definition of the “right kind of sovereignty” to be exported to the rest of the world – this time around neither unitary nor conditional but negotiated sovereignty. Indeed, the global system has been converging towards an uneasy mix of indivisible and conditional sovereignty, toleration and interference formally applicable to all under international law. What is wrong with this picture one may ask? Are we not evolving towards a truly universal system governed by common concerns me for the welfare of all humanity mediated by negotiated sovereignty? The answer to this question is of course highly contested. But the gist of the problem is this. The convergence we are talking about here is hardly “symmetric”. Elements of hierarchy (beyond mere asymmetries of power) continue to exist in the international system as various modes of coercion are discursively justified and then formalised. The US many not have been a colonial power but it has led this new game (as of course did the Soviet Union). Even if formal hierarchical structures and norms were overturned by the right to self-determination, the new legal order bestowed rather minimal conditions of sovereignty on postcolonial states. Not all sovereigns are born equal. Most ‘third world states’ were born insecure and treated as such.3 The very term ‘third’ world for decolonised states framed the construction of such a ranking after decolonisation and even the end of the cold war did not fundamentally change the asymmetry of global security or financial regimes. And so, the brand of sovereignty “exported” by the EU may have changed but its mode of promotion continues to exhibit similar forms of uni-directionality. Moreover, when going global, Europeans (or the West) do not always export “negotiated sovereignty” but an old familiar form of asymmetrically conditional sovereignty.4 If sovereignty simply means that recognised states are considered the legitmate location for good politics and the pursuit of economic development, the patterns of EU-ACP relations discussed above do not exhibit a symmetrical regard.5 In the more extreme cases, we may applaud the

3 Ayoob, Mohammed. The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict, and the International System. Boulder: L. Rienner, 1995. 4 Stephen Krasner, Sovereignty: Organised Hypocrisy, Princeton University Press (1999) 5 Williams, David. "Aid and Sovereignty: Quasi-states and International Financial Institutions." Review of International Studies 26.4 (2000): 557-73.

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duty to intervene contained in the 2005 UN convention on the responsibility to protect but aimed within European or US borders it is not. Within the EU, coercive interference and intervention has remained taboo, whether in the context of internal conflicts as in Ireland, Spain or Cyprus, or in the context of perceived human rights or rule of law violations in specific member states. And of course EU states would never let non-EU “outsiders” intervene in their internal conflicts. Arguably the very idea of ‘weak’ or ‘failed’ states to justify intervention in post-colonial sttes contributes to perpetuating the weakness of these states in ways that would be unthinkable for say Belgian.6 The fate of the term “civilisation” itself is enlightening in this regard. The decolonisation era led to the reframing of the civilizing mission as “the modernizing mission” in order to seek to convey the “objective connotation” lacking in the former (although ideas of clash of civilizations and the war on terror sought to rehabilitate the notion of civilisational divide). And indeed, as far as self-perception goes, the notion of civilizing as a project continues to characterise the source itself – the EU as a civilian power is not quite yet a “civilised power” itself, but an actor restricting itself to “civilising” others through non imperialist e.g., “civilian” means of external action. Surely however, there are fundamental differences, are there not, between the two sequential systems of attempted expansion of European society? Consider both intent, what European actors seek to do, and consent, what those outside the EU do of their own volition in the context of enlargement for instance. One would argue that the implications for EU candidates of disregarding EU prescriptions have little to do with the implications of disregarding the 'standard of civilization' in the 19th century which effectively determined whose sovereignty was to be respected: non-compliant societies were considered unfit for self-government per se so that no sovereign state was supposed to be obliged to respect that society as independent. The EU criteria, in contrast, merely function as incentives that if fulfilled will confer certain benefits upon the complying non-EU state. The EU does not settle questions of recognition on the criteria of international law alone, or on everyone else’s behalf. And of course, presumably, countries can choose to become members or not. But is such a choice real given the structural constrains created by the EU in its part of the world? Were there genuine alternatives to enlargement for east and central European countries? As Dimitar Bechev discusses in his chapter, these questions have a different connotation in the centre or the periphery of the EU.

Conclusion: The Post-Colonial Aspiration or the Redemption of Europe So the EU has worked hard to make the world believe in the story of its virgin birth. Colonialism, moi! But even with genuine redirection towards its own internal project flanked by what I have termed policies of atonement, it cannot escape the echoes of its own colonialism and pretend that it is possible to simply engage in messianic universalism all over again as if nothing had happened in a previous historical era. Those

6 Grovogui, S. N. "Regimes of Sovereignty: International Morality and the African Condition." European Journal of International Relations 8.3 (2002): 315-38.

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who see intriguing parallels between the old mission civilisatrice and EUniversalism do not simply suffer from post-colonial stress disorder, the infamous imperial guilt derided by well meaning liberal interventionists. Europe, pas tout à fait la même, pas tout à fait une autre, as the poet might have said gazing at the EU in light of its colonial shadow. This does not mean that Europe, and its current incarnation as the EU, is trapped in an ever ending neo-colonial role. Beyond the critique of Eurocentricism - which is certainly not new - what would it take for the EU to act as a genuine ‘post-colonial’ power, self-reflexive about the echoes of colonialism and legitimate in the eyes of other countries? In his preface to Fanon’s Les Damnés de la Terre, Sartre writes, “We too, the people of Europe are being decolonised, let us look at ourselves if we dare and see what it makes of us”. To dare and see ought indeed be the starting point of any post-colonial exploration. And in this realm, the journey must start with self-reflexivity, that is the ability to reflect critically and openly upon both discourse and practice, the systematic questioning of the assumptions behind one’s methods, and the capacity to draw lessons from outside one’s world – whether from the past or from the perceptions of others. Some would argue that such self-reflexivity is exactly what l’Europe éternelle is all about. They will say that it is the Renaissance that made self-doubt synonymous with modernity, as rooted in the scientific tradition of enquiry going back to ancient Greece. Perhaps. But they forget that Buddhists, Confucians and many other unrecorded individuals and groups, practised systematic self-doubt well before Europeans, albeit perhaps under different social and epistemic conditions. More importantly, even if there is no dearth of self-doubt in Europe in this crisis era, somehow, the state of mind seems to wither away when it comes to engaging with its ex-colonial domain. Ask our non-European partners engaged in “partnership” negotiations, the story told by Jones and Weinhardt in this volume. To be sure, the “post-colonial ethos” does not belong to Europeans. It would indeed be the ultimate irony of eurocentricism to “steal” post-colonialism for those who have so struggled under its banner. While thinkers like Fanon, Foucault and Said provided crucial initial inspiration, those “at the origin” of the post-colonial movement were usually fiction writers from ex-colonial countries, whose literary narratives carried a great deal of political significance.25 These authors were joined by migrants to the west with a strong sense of coming from cultural and political peripheries who did not accept a seamless integration into their new society. Instead, “armed with the aura of the activism and empowerment of the national liberation movements, they began to ask awkward questions about western history and the implicit assumptions of western knowledge.” 26 Thus, the original post-colonial ethos is marked by an imperative of “decentering,” privileging as it does the margin and migrants over the centre and settlers, the ubiquity of resistance to elite domination on the part of the subaltern and the weak, radical thinking about gender and modernity, the deconstruction of identities as contingent, the emphasis on subjectivity, and the sensitivity of the cast-aside and the concern to see through their eyes. In recent years, as the field of post-colonial studies has progressively evolved from the particular to the abstract, from local narratives to apprehensions of global cultural and

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political relations, from the assertion of resistance to embracing hybridity, and from third-world to perspectives escaping ascription and localisation, the potential for dialogue with more mainstream IR as well as European studies has also progressively widened (inter alia, Loomba,27 Huggan and Law28). In this space of dialogue, Europe emerges as a complex space, “which is often imagined and oblivious of its politics of inclusion and exclusion towards migrants, asylum seekers and refugees, as well as of its take on internal conflicts, political transitions and cosmopolitan imaginary”.29 Yes, it is this obliviousness which we must challenge. The question remains: If the EU is our agenda, do we necessarily need to follow Dipesh Chakrabarty who calls for Third World histories to be written in a way that marginalizes Europe instead of being simply variants of a master narrative in which Europe remains the subject?30 Or should we side with Darby who argues that “the project of marginalizing Europe runs the risk of failing to recognize how much of what was once European has found a place outside Europe and in a sense has become non-European”?31 The fact is that whatever the dark side of European universalism, we have inherited our understanding of globality from Europe as Postel Vinay argues in this volume. In my view, a “a responsible Europe” ought to be a genuinely postcolonial Europe which does not itself define alone the terms of its own responsibilities. A post-colonial agenda for EU action must be inspired by the ethos of decentering and the adoption of signposts, standards or mind-sets to transcend colonial patterns. One such is to relentlessly demand “mutuality” between nations or group, as the obvious opposite referent to colonial patterns of domination and unilateralism. Mutuality implies institutionalised symmetry between actors – if not equality per se given structural asymmetries of power. It can be obtained at many levels. At its most structural, it refers to mutual recognition both in diplomatic and ethical terms, or the idea that processes of recognition ought necessarily to be reciprocal. Secondly, it implies that understandings of “free trade,” “human rights”, or “the rule of law” are shared and fine-tuned within multilateral institutions; it underpins the belief that the promotion of avowed universal norms by powerful states without the bedrock of true procedural multilateralism which in the end undermine the original claim to universalism.32 Thirdly, and in the absence of multilateral options, mutuality means some degree of systematic acceptance of influence within each other’s polities whereby the inclusion of others is mutually conditioned.33 Finally, it means if nothing else that the EU is expected to be consistent between its internal and external legal credo. This imperative of consistency – the idea that what we do should reflect who we are – is at the core of EU civilian power thinking, requiring that the EU follow its own guiding principles when acting beyond its borders: integration, prevention, mediation, and persuasion. It would be hard to argue that such consistency is in practice the hallmark of European universalism. At the same time, a post-colonial agenda for Europe must be bound up with “empowerment” for lack of a more original term. We always need to ask to what extent external action empowers (certain) local actors to create their own version of this universal ideal – as opposed to receiving a specific and unilateral “transplant” from the

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metropole, as it were. EUniversalism may look fine and acceptable when we simply contrast it with parochialism and relativism, or worse the sovereign right of authoritarian regimes to harm their citizens as they please. But it no longer seems so fine if we contrast it with a true pluralism, where the universal is grounded on the stories and experience of all. We cannot not deny the structural realities of today’s global system, its fundamentally hierarchical nature and the asymmetries of power that underlie contemporary international relations, including in the EU’s external relations. A relationship of “influence” by definition involves an element of inequality and hierarchy. But the discourse of the EU-as-a-model has often been grounded in a sense of superior normative or cognitive power which Europeans somehow feel and believe continues to be their prerogative. This is where self-reflexivity is in order, and this is where the Eurocrisis may become a game changer. It may be the case that EU actors learn from the other side not just how the EU model may best be adapted to fit their context, but how the EU model itself may be enhanced based on the experience of other states, regions and peoples. The liberal core of the EU and the pluralist nature of its politics are certainly a good ground to build from. 1 A preliminary version of this paper was presented at the conference, Beyond Westphalia, University of Oxford, 2008. For the input, I would like to thank my co-editors, Berny Sebe and Gabi Maas, as well as Tobias Lenz, Nora Fisher Onar, Juri Viehoff and Andrew Hurrell. 2 For a discussion see Nora Fisher Onar and Kalypso Nicolaïdis, “The Decentering Agenda: Rethinking Europe in a Non-European World,” in Conflict and Cooperation, Vol 48, N2 (June 2013). 3 See Kalypso Nicolaïdis, “The Power of the Superpowerless” in (ed) Tod Lindberg, Beyond Paradise and Power: Europe, America, and the Future of a Troubled Partnership (New York, NY: Routledge, 2004), pp. 93-120. 4 On these themes, see Ian Manners, “Normative Power Europe: A Contradiction in Terms?,” Journal of Common Market Studies 40, 2 (2002), pp. 235-258. See also Kalypso Nicolaïdis and Robert Howse, "'This is my EUtopia...': Narrative as Power," Journal Of Common Market Studies, Special Anniversary Issue, 40, 4 (2002), pp. 767-92; And the contributions in Kalypso Nicolaïdis and Robert Whitman, “Normative Power Europe Revisited,” Special Issue of Conflict and Cooperation, Vol 48, N2, June 2013. 5 John Kent, The Internationalization of Colonialism: Britain, France, and Black Africa, 1939–1956 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992). 6 Council of Europe, The Strasbourg Plan, Strasbourg: Secretariat-General Council of Europe, 1952.Quoted in Hansen and Jonsson, this volume. 7 For a discussion in the context of Algeria, see Todd Shepard, The Invention of Decolonization- The Algerian War and the Remaking of France (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006). 8 See Rachel Kleinfeld and Kalypso Nicolaïdis, “Can a Post-Colonial Power Export the Rule of Law” in (ed.) Gianluggi Palombella and Neil Walker, Relocating the Rule of Law, (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2009), pp. 139-170.

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9 See Chris Bickerton, (ed.), European Union Foreign Policy: From Effectiveness to Functionality, Palgrave Studies in European Union Politics (Basingstoke: Palgrave MacMillan, 2011). 10 See inter alia, Anthony Forster, “No entry: Britain and the EEC in the 1960s”, Contemporary British History, 12, 2, (1998), pp. 139-146; Andrew Moravcsik, “De Gaulle Between Grain and Grandeur: The Political Economy of French EC Policy, 1958–1970,” Journal of Cold War Studies, 2, 3,(2000): 4-68. 11 Aimé Césaire, Discours sur le Colonialisme (Paris: Editions Presence Africaines, 1955) 12 Pascal Bruckner, Le Sanglot de l’Homme Blanc: Tiers Monde, Culpability, Haine de Soi (Paris: Le Seuil, 1983). 13 This was also reflected in Francois Mitterand’s Discours de La Baule. For a discussion see Richard Youngs, The European Union and Democracy Promotion: A Critical Global Assessment (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010); See also Rachel Kleinfeld and Kalypso Nicolaïdis, “Can a post-colonial power export the rule of law? Element of a general framework,” in Relocating the Rule of Law. 14 Kalypso Nicolaïdis and Robert Howse, "'This is my EUtopia...': Narrative as Power," Journal Of

Common Market Studies, Special Anniversary Issue, pp. 767-92.

15 The Rt Hon Chris Patten, Commissioner for External Relations. “How National is the National Interest?” English-Speaking Union: Churchill Lecture. Guildhall, London, 30 April 2002. 16 Ian Manners, “Normative Power Europe: A contradiction in terms?” Journal of Common Market Studies, pp. 235–258. For a set of critical appraisal of the concept see Kalypso Nicolaidis and Richard Whitman, eds, Conflict and Cooperation, Special Issue on Normative Power Europe, Volume 48, Numer 2, June 2013

17 Zaki Laidi, Norms over Force. The Enigma of European Power, (Palgrave Macmillan: London, 2000), pp. 179.

18 Edward Keene, Beyond the Anarchical Society: Grotius, Order, and Colonialism in International Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 19 Nora Fisher Onar, “Transcending universalism? Trajectories for human rights in a post-Western world,” in (ed.) Simon Bennett and Éadaoin O’Brien, What Future for Human Rights in a Non-Western World (London: Human Rights Consortium, 2012). 20 John Hobson “Is Critical Theory always for the White West and for Western Imperialism? Beyond Westphalian towards a Post-racist Critical IR” Review of International Studies, 33 (2007). 21 Gerrit W. Gong, The Standard of Civilization in International Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984). To be sure, such standards of civilisation may have been the bread and butter of the legal community if France and Britain but were far from universally accepted --recall the anecdote of Clemenceau’s reluctance to use the concept of civilization since he know that Germans were found to use it to demonstrate French inferiority. 22 Gong, op.cit.

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23 Edward Keene, Beyond the Anarchical Society: Grotius, Order, and Colonialism in International Politics, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); see also Spruyt, Hendrik. "The End of Empire and the Extension of the Westphalian System: The Normative Basis of the Modern State Order." International Studies Review 2.2 (2000): 65-92. 24 Ironically, the EU is most often guilty of not applying what it breaches, making for instance the relative closure of its external boundaries close to un-negotiable when so many analysts have argued that a system of circular migration would be good for all side, including as dictated by demographic imperatives (in 30 years the EU will need 50 million more persons given labour needs unfulfilled by migrants). 25 Philip Darby, “Pursuing the political: A post-colonial rethinking of relations international,” Millennium, 33,1 (2004), pp. 1-32; Margaret Majumdar, Postcoloniality, (Oxford: Berghan, 2007). 26 Iris Young, Inclusion and Democracy, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). 27 Ania Loomba, Colonialism, Post Colonialism, (New York: Routledge, 1998).

28 Graham Huggan and Ian Law, Racism Postcolonialism Europe, (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2009).

29 See for instance, the network of scholars in PEN (Postcolonial Europe Network); see also Graham Huggan (ed) “Post-Colonial Europe,” Special Issue, Moving Worlds, 11, 2 (2011). 30 Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincialising Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historic Difference. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007). 31 Darby, “Pursuing the political: A post-colonial rethinking of relations international,” p. 24 32 Rahul Rao, Third World Protest: Between Home and the World. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 33 Young, Iris Inclusion and Democracy, 2002, Princeton University Press